


The Mortifying Ordeal Of Being Known

by letbygones



Series: Growing Pains [4]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: BDSM, Codependency, Dom Galo, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Sub Lio, Subspace, Switching, Top Drop, kink as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22804198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letbygones/pseuds/letbygones
Summary: He loves Galo. He wants Galo. Without a shred of doubt, heneedsGalo, and something deep inside him longs topossessGalo, but you can't possess the sun."Can we..." Lio starts, burying his face into Galo's armpit, "Switch. Maybe. Just to see what happens."
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Series: Growing Pains [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605982
Comments: 23
Kudos: 269





	The Mortifying Ordeal Of Being Known

**Author's Note:**

> Formatting might be weird, posted this without a laptop or access to my usual partner in crime, the EM Dash <\3

It happens when Lio finally breaks skin.

He's using a custom toy they'd bought at a vendor fair last weekend: a short rubber loop, wide and flat, with metal bolts set into the striking surface. Galo'd gone starry-eyed when he saw it-- _Floggers are cool, I guess, but this is bad-ass!_ \-- and Lio agreed. It looked evil, and in his accurate hands, it _felt_ evil, too.

And truthfully, Lio's always been okay with _evil_ \-- with looking dangerous and untouchable, cool and consistent. He protects himself with the knowledge that its all for show. Despite his history-- despite all public opinion-- he's not bad, his therapist insists. Not clinically.

Not _really_. 

But tonight, standing deer-eyed and frozen over his boyfriend's bleeding body, he's not so sure his therapist was right.

Galo's back is oozing out big gooey drips. Lio's breath catches in his lungs, and he sets his weapon down on their play mat.

"We're stopping," he grunts, leaning down to Galo's level. He places a shaky hand on his partner's flushed shoulder.

"I'm fine," Galo insists. His bangs are pushed back with a headband, and Lio can see the sweat-shine lacquering his face. It's still scrunched up in discomfort.

"We're _stopping_ ," Lio repeats, his voice heavy in his throat. "You're bleeding."

Galo raises himself up a little, straining to get a better look at his back. He shrugs, and it pisses Lio off. "It's no big. Blood was expected, yeah? I mean, look at that thing! We didn't name it _Lio's Harbinger of Broken Pride_ for nothing," Galo chuckles under his breath, but his face falls when he sees Lio's worried expression. "You okay, babe?"

Lio is very much _not_ okay, but he takes a moment to collect himself. With a choppy start, he peels off a glove and throws it to the floor at his knees. Then he leans back on his butt to reach for the first aid kit they'd stashed under the coffee table.

"No," he admits. "I don't know. I need a minute." 

Galo allows him to clean the wound. He's a very good patient who holds still when the rubbing alcohol spears his nerves, but he's accustomed to pain by now. Lio wonders if the man ever had a threshold to begin with-- they've been inflicting each other with bites and strikes and stab wounds for years now, as enemies, friends, and lovers. Even Galo's emotional pain doesn't seem to linger like it used to.

As of last Wednesday, Lio's therapist knows how jealous that makes him.

"So, question," Galo starts, patiently waiting as Lio unwraps a bandage-- the big kind. 

Lio doesn't answer him, because he's busy focusing on the floor. They'll have to throw away the mat. He'll have to soak the toy and remember to google the lifespan of hepatitis on rubber surfaces. Not that Galo isn't clean-- they've bled on each other before, this is nothing new--

"Lio," Galo tries again, his voice calm and clear. He twists around to face him. "What's up? I'm okay, I swear. Hell, that was like, exactly the level of intensity I wanted," he insists, earnestly and honestly.

"Don't--" Lio manages to spit out, but... 

Don't _what?_ Don't express your feelings? Don't check in with your partner?

Galo's eyes are big and pleading.

_Don't ask for more._

With a graceless swoosh, Lio clicks the first aid kit shut. He breathes through his nose before speaking, desperately trying to use his Big Boy Words.

"I can't give you what you want tonight. I need to take a break."

And of course Galo understands. Galo is compassion incarnate, which is the only reason they'd ever become friends in the first place. Gratefully-- uncomfortably, begrudgingly-- Lio makes sure to massage Galo's wrists for him when he frees them from the cop-grade metal cuffs, and the bruises that are already forming will be _peachy_ reminders that he fucked up a perfectly good scene with his perfectly willing sub.

 _Again_.

"Thank you," Galo makes sure to add, as though Lio's shoddy aftercare meant the world to him. 

As though he thought Lio was doing a good job.

***

Aina's got olive oil on her sleeve, but she doesn't seem to notice. Lio tries to keep his eyes trained on her face. He lets her swipe the last piece of table bread.

"Sorry, did you want that?" she blanches, after she's already dipped it in vinegar.

"No. I would've said as much," Lio blinks, fully aware of how snippy he's being. He figures he should apologize for the attitude. Instead, he occupies himself with the entree menu.

"Jeez, you're hangry," Aina mutters. "I was going to ask if you wanted to share a plate, but I guess not..."

"Normally, I'd take you up on that," Lio explains, eyeing the salmon. "But I've got to bring something back for Galo anyway. He's off at four today."

"No food at home?"

"Plenty of food at home. I just want to do something nice, sue me."

"Damn, what crawled up _your_ skinny jeans?" she bites, slapping Lio's menu back down to the table. "You've been a pissant all morning. Is everything okay?"

Lio stares at her splayed hand in shock, but he can't say he's not impressed. At first, these lunch meetings with Aina were quiet and careful. Some number of months post-Parnassus she'd landed a promotion to District Safety Commissioner, so Lio was obligated to work with her. Never mind the fact that they weren't friends-- she was an Ardebit, a government employee, and a couch-hog. 

But now, five years later, those barriers were broken. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't fond of her, and she'd proven herself through her work. She wasn't a coward, like her sister.

She hadn't defected to Europe, like her sister.

"I'm fine," he answers, plucking at her fingers one by one until he can read the menu again. "I want to see the seafood options."

But she's stubborn, like her sister, and like Galo too, he supposes. She refuses to move her hand out of the way, and leans in across the table until she's close enough to breathe on him.

"Lio Fotia, so help me god, I _will_ submit Friday's report without you if you keep this up," she seethes. "I _hate_ it when you're a big grump."

"Because it annoys you?"

She shakes her head. "Because I _care_ about you!"

Lio pauses, wondering how he should respond to that. Obviously, they're on good terms. He'd even venture to call them friends, if their mutual goals and drunken karaoke duets meant anything. But he rarely hears those terms of endearment from anyone who isn't Galo (or Meis and Gueira, over cigarettes on messy days). And even then, the nasty part of his brain that _knows better_ than _they do_ insists that no, they _don't_ care, because they _shouldn't_ care.

But that's what Dialectical Behavior Therapy is for, so he takes a sip of his Jack n' Coke and quietly tells Aina "thank you".

She sighs, and her face makes the same expression it does when Lucia, Varys, and Galo try to out-burp one another.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

The waiter interrupts, and Lio orders shrimp scampi-- and the chicken cacciatore, to-go. He politely thanks them, and relinquishes his menu. A sugar packet replaces it as his new distraction device.

"I. Well. Metaphorically speaking, I've been running out of steam lately."

Aina watches him as he tears open the sugar and absentmindedly pours some of it in his hand.

"Uh-huh. Like in a work way, or a life way?"

"I don't know. Life way, I guess."

He reads the panic on her face before he corrects himself. "I'm okay, it's not like I'm a danger to myself. I just mean-- Okay. Fuck it. You know what Galo and I get up to. With the bruises and all. I feel like I'm--"

His hands shovel the sugar granules from one palm to another, some of them scattering off the flat planes of his fingers down to the tabletop below.

"Like you're what, Lio?"

It's a good question.

Undeserving? Overwhelmed?

"... Obligated," he admits, puffing out a reluctant breath of air that sends sugar flying across the table. He realizes what he's done-- what he's said-- and hurries to scoop them back his way, out of Aina's personal space.

She takes a moment to watch, and Lio feels the heat rising on his face.

"Obligated to be with Galo?" she asks, her tone unreadable. 

"What? No. Not at all," Lio huffs. "I misspoke. 'Obligated' was a poor word choice."

"Lio."

"Really. I promise. I'm hopelessly in love with another hopeless romantic, and we like to pulverize each other like _healthy adults_ ," he insists. "I just-- I'm not perfect, and I'm tired of being _perfect_ , that's all."

He cranes his entire face down to sip at his drink, and the tiny cocktail straw makes a _fweee_! sound through his lips.

Aina's face is blank, and Lio hates it.

"Well. You're far from perfect in my book," she tells him, the honesty sharp as his pocketknife. "And this sounds like something you two need to talk about."

Lio nods, his face still at his cup's edge.

"But," Aina adds, slouching forward to meet his gaze. "I can see where you're coming from. Galo has a habit of putting people on a pedestal. The first time he complimented me, he threw an entire speech my way, and I thought _oh jeez_ , is this guy for real?"

"Right. Exactly. Now imagine that every morning, ad nauseam," Lio deflates. "I love it, but I don't deserve it."

Not when he spent his afternoons sneaking Marlboros, or when he desperately forged his notary's signature on overdue paperwork. Not when Galo had to call in sick because Lio pushed him beyond his limits the night before.

Not when Lio had evaded lifelong criminal lockup due to _human rights_ and _political_ _amnesty_ , as though those words _meant_ anything, made up for _anything_.

Aina pokes him in the forehead.

"Stay with me, space cadet. We've still gotta go over Q2's budget."

So Lio does what Lio knows best: he nods and he compartmentalizes, because Aina is not his therapist, and Aina will not make him feel better.

But Aina is okay, he guesses, and he wants to keep her around, so he apologizes and reaches for his padfolio.

"Just a side note, though," she says quietly, right before they begin. "I don't think anyone _deserves_ to be loved. But it happens anyway, you know?"

In that moment, Lio wishes he'd told her he cares about her too.

***

He finds Galo in the basement of their apartment building, seated atop the only washing machine that still works. When Lio clomps down the stairs that _definitely_ aren't up to code, he briefly considers the benefits of breaking through the rotten wood and falling six feet to his certain death. 

Anything to avoid the inevitable-- and the inevitable greets him, all smiles behind his bright blue curtain of mohawk.

"'Sup, buttercup?" Galo sing-songs, his athletic legs gently kicking against the washer as they dangle down.

Lio walks the bag of takeout over and sets it in his lap. "Lunch ran late. I hope you're not too hungry."

"I'm always hungry," Galo shrugs, still smiling. "'S'no big. How's Aina?"

"Well enough. She says hello," Lio says. He knows how stilted he sounds right now-- he can feel his heart seeping down his sleeve, where he absolutely loathes to wear it.

Galo notices too, because he tilts his head sideways, like a dog.

"You still feelin' bad?" he asks. His hand is dry and comforting on the dip of Lio's neck, where Galo gives the gentlest of squeezes. Lio closes his eyes, and despite everything he's feeling, he leans into the touch.

"Yeah. I think we should-- have a talk, or something."

"I'm all for talks," Galo agrees, but Lio can see the worry behind his eyes. He brings his small, cold hand up to Galo's cheek and pulls him down into a peck.

"It's... nothing bad, I don't think," Lio assures him, keeping him close enough to brush noses. "It's not you, it's me, as the saying goes--"

"Uh, that saying implies something _super_ bad," Galo blinks, and Lio feels pressure against his hand as he tries to pull away.

"Scratch that, then," Lio asserts. "I meant--" _Fuck_ , why was this so hard? "I'm sorry. I don't know how to phrase this."

"You're not makin' me feel too hot about this talk, babe," Galo tries to joke, but his voice is thinning. "You're not breaking up with me, are you?"

The washing machine switches to a spin cycle, right when Lio tries to reassure Galo with a hug.

It's a very wobbly, awkward hug.

"No. Absolutely not. I love you," he says, staring his boyfriend hotly in the eyes. "In fact, I love you so much, that sometimes I don't know how to shut it off."

"Do you want to shut it off? The love-o-meter, or whatever," Galo mutters.

With very little grace, Lio hops up on the dead machine next to Galo's. He presses their thighs together as he talks.

"Honestly? Sometimes," he sighs, already feeling like shit. "Sometimes I just feel so _supported_ I don't know what to do. And like. I'm used to being respected as a leader, sure, but I'm not used to being..."

Galo waits, surely expecting something terrible to come out of Lio's terrible mouth.

Lio's fine with _evil_ , but he's not fine with _terrible_.

"I'm not used to being forgiven. Over and over. Like I've never done anything wrong to begin with."

Galo searches his eyes for something, and to Lio's surprise, a slow, understanding smile blooms on his boyfriend's face.

"Ahhh, okay, I think I know what's going on," he hums, nudging Lio's shoulder with his own. "You always get the depressies after you fuck me up real bad."

Lio straightens up. "What? That's not--"

"You do. You super do," Galo says. "Like, I know you're connecting a million dots here about how 'bad'"-- he airquotes-- "of a person you are, and I don't want to ignore your feelings, but c'mon, this is _textbook_ Top Drop."

Lio's not sure what to say to that, so he makes a noise in the back of his throat. Galo gently runs a finger along the prominent vein on Lio's skinny forearm as he talks.

"Okay, so let's map this out then, yeah? When'd you start feeling crappy?"

Lio mumbles. "Last night."

"After you hit me too hard, right?"

"Mmm."

"And a couple of weeks ago, when I called red, and you spent the night at the guys' place the next day."

"Maybe..."

"And the time I said I ballbusting was totes fine, and I was totes wrong, but that was on me--"

"Okay, I _get it,_ " Lio hisses, his face hot and hidden under his palms. "I can't handle guilt. At all. And then I take it out on myself, and everyone _else_ , and--"

"And then I forgive you, because you always apologize, and you're working on it," Galo chirps, like it's the easiest thing to do in the world. "And that overwhelms you, and that's fine too, I guess. But maybe we should... like. Figure something out."

Galo's emotional maturity never fails to impress Lio, but this has him staring at the concrete floor with tears in his eyes. He can't find the strength to say anything that isn't biting and curt, so he doesn't say anything at all. Instead, he allows himself to be pulled sideways against Galo's chest, as the rumbling of the washing machine gently rocks the both of them.

He loves Galo. He wants Galo. Without a shred of doubt, he _needs_ Galo, and something deep inside him longs to _possess_ Galo, but you can't possess the sun. Even Lio, as boundless and powerful as the day he'd turned Burnish, couldn't snuff Galo's light.

And he realizes, in that moment, that it's a blessing in disguise. He can't own Galo. He can't destroy him-- not without trying. Galo would always rise up to meet him.

And Lio could-- if he chose to-- receive him, for a change.

"Can we..." Lio starts, burying his face into Galo's armpit, "Switch. Maybe. Just to see what happens."

He can't see Galo's face, but he can feel his big hand softly carding through his hair. It hits a tangle, but carefully works around it.

"If you're cool with it," Galo hums, before curling his fingers inward and _oh_ so gently pulling Lio back by the roots of his hair. He tilts Lio's head just enough to kiss him, but before he does, he gets a long look at his face. 

Lio feels naked, but he lets Galo see him. 

And then, anchored by the fist at his nape, he's pulled forward, hot and desperate and breathless.

***

They wait a week before trying things out. Lio's slump worsens before it gets better, but Galo gives him space and time. They text each other in-jokes and recipes, love letters and what-ifs. Galo asks about Lio's hard limits, and Lio takes a long shower before answering.

It's not that he's never bottomed. That's a frequent enough occurrence, when they want something laid-back and loving. Galo can read his body as well as-- if not better than-- he reads Galo's. The man certainly knows how to pay rapt attention, and that's what makes him a fantastic sub.

But Lio's never willingly relinquished his power-- not _really_. He's given Galo everything he's asked for, and sometimes takes a little more than necessary, just to see how Galo reacts. They hold wordless conversations with their bodies, toying with dares and limits because they _can_ \-- because they _need_ it.

Because _Galo_ needs it.

But tonight, Lio tells him, he wants to let go. He's tired of responsibility, and he can't handle the fallout of disappointing his partner. During Wednesday's therapy session, Lio admitted just how badly he wants Galo to be proud of him. 

He's not going down without a fight, though. Lio may be depressed, but he still has _dignity_.

So, as previously negotiated, he's slammed down to the floor with Galo's knee jammed against his back, before he finally gives into real, captured _submission_.

"You had enough yet, _Boss?_ " Galo grins against Lio's neck, his voice full of playful arrogance. Before Lio can answer, he's pushed down against the floor again, his face flush against the carpet. Galo's got a single strong arm pinning both wrists to the floor, and Lio's truly, completely immobilized.

"Nnn--" he grunts, bearing Galo's weight against his chest.

"Aw, come on, use your words, I know you like to talk big," Galo says, right against the shell of Lio's ear. His hot breath sends a jolt that goes straight to Lio's cock. "Do you give?"

When Lio groans instead of answering, Galo's free hand wraps around the back of his neck. It's rough, but protective; he can breathe, but he can't twist away.

Lio hesitates, swallows his pride, and then--

"I give."

And then things start to blur together.

He's embarrassed to discover he _likes_ being degraded, as Galo pulls him up on his knees and into a formal kneel. He feels as though he's lost a fight, and oddly enough, it almost seems _real_. His chest tightens in shame, but he's forced to gaze up at Galo-- all pomp and energy-- and Lio feels a familiar spike of competition.

"Feel good?" Galo asks, his fingers wrapped around Lio's jaw. He's in character, sure, but Lio knows he's checking in on him.

He smirks against his grip. "Feels great."

"Awesome," Galo replies, before slapping Lio broad across the cheek.

It wasn't hard, but it was sudden, and Lio audibly gasps in shock. He blinks back reflexive tears, and when he looks up at Galo, he's surprised to see the man blushing just as much as he is.

"Oh my god," Lio whispers, and Galo breaks out in a devilish grin.

"That was hot," he chuckles, bringing a hand up to gently stroke the spot he'd slapped. "Did you like that?"

Lio keeps his eyes closed as he nods, because he can't keep _looking_ at Galo's shit-eating grin. Not like this.

"Hey. Babe. Eyes on me," Galo orders. 

Reluctantly, Lio obliges.

From the floor, Galo's larger than life: he's shirtless, because _of course he is,_ and his legs are spread on either side of Lio's shoulders as he seats himself on the couch. He's got both his hands running through Lio's hair now, and it feels nice, but--

"I want it rougher," Lio tells him, eyes defiant.

"You don't want me slapping you full-force," Galo says. He scritches behind Lio's ear, and it's too tender, too _careful_.

"Try me."

And maybe it's their years of ritual and routine, or Galo's willingness to make this good for Lio that has him acquiescing. _Safety first, though,_ Galo insists, as he gently removes Lio's earring and sets it on the side table.

"Why--" Lio starts to ask, before he's hit, _hard_ , across the side of his face. His vision buzzes with speckles of black and gray, and his dick is positively _leaking_ with pre-cum.

"Told you," Galo teases, as Lio stares at the carpet and wiggles his jaw. He's breathing harder than he thought he was, and his lips are parted and wet with confusion. Galo leans forward and kisses them, hardly giving Lio time to recover, but Lio bites back, all hunger and fury.

They share a back-and-forth for a while, as Galo tries pinching and scratching and thudding against him in careful, dangerous ways. Lio cries out, but never stops him.

He actually _likes_ this, he realizes.

He feels _caught._

It's nothing he hasn't felt before-- he's been chained, stockaded, and arrested more than once in his lifetime. He's been punished for things he'd unquestionably done, and degraded for things he could never control.

But Galo, _his_ Galo, was deserving of this. He deserved to have Lio down on his knees, _deserved_ to be loved-- Aina's opinion be damned-- and if anyone deserved to own Lio, it was him.

So Lio stops fighting back. Eventually, at some point, _challenge_ becomes _privilege_.

He's not in bondage, but something about Galo's leading presence tells him to stay still, push back, but not too much-- Lio accepts the tongue invading his mouth, and feels it trail down his neck, sucking marks all over his skin as it wanders. Galo unbuttons Lio's shirt for him, sneaking a hand up to his chest to toy with his nipples, and Lio feels much too cold, much too hot-- 

_"Yes,"_ he hears himself breathe out, and Galo's against his ear again, asking him _"Yes, what?"_

Please. More. _More, more, more._

But whatever Galo'd been expecting to hear, and whatever Lio'd intended to say, the _Yes, **Sir**_ that escapes his mouth was not it.

Galo draws back with a low, annoying whistle.

"Damn, Fotia, are you really that easy?" he chuckles, meaning it as a joke, surely, but Lio's eyes are trained on the ground in embarrassment.

"Shut up," he tries to argue, but his voice is shockingly small. 

"You're _so_ into this, babe," Galo smiles, and the teasing is too _much_ \-- too _good_ \--

Lio makes an _awful_ noise when Galo palms at his crotch, sliding the leather of Lio's pants against his full erection. He does this over and over again, stroking against the underside of Lio's sensitive cock, pulling desperate sounds out of Lio before he can control himself.

When he pulls away, it's only for a moment to grab at something. Then he unzips the front of Lio's pants, slides his hand in as far as it can fit, and deposits something smooth and cool near the base of Lio's shaft.

"Let's hope the bluetooth actually works this time," Galo mumbles, removing his hand in favor of poking at his phone screen. 

Lio's fully aware of what he's doing-- they'd bought the vibe together, after all-- but he's always been the one with the controller, watching Galo jerk and giggle under him as he plays with the intensity on the phone app.

The vibe switches on, and he tastes his own damn medicine.

 _"Fuck,"_ Lio grunts, his head hanging forward against the edge of the couch cushion. Galo takes advantage of this and scoots forward, so that he's straddling Lio's face.

"You doin' okay? Wanna keep going?"

Lio nods ferociously. The staccato buzz against his cock is almost too much to sit through, but he's determined to ride this out. He paces his breathing through his nose, and he's _just_ now acclimating to the sensation when Galo switches the mode to something more erratic.

"Jesus _Christ,_ " he curses under his breath, and Galo laughs, bright and airy. 

Lio buries his face between Galo's thighs, partly hiding, partly chasing the smell of him. With a _heads up_ , Galo rolls his sweatpants down, proudly offering himself to Lio's desperate mouth-- and because Lio has something to prove, he parts his lips and sinks down on Galo's length as far as he can manage, all in one go.

Galo gasps, and Lio gags.

Immediately, they both pull back. 

"Holy shit, take it slow, yeah?" Galo says, catching his stolen breath. He runs a careful thumb over Lio's bottom lip.

"Fine," Lio agrees, as though it were a good idea.

He has good ideas too. Unfortunately, he can't think of any right now-- the mode on the vibe's switched again, becoming something low and growing and hilly. Lio desperately grinds forward every time it peaks, but there's nothing to grind against.

The soft whine he hears is _his_.

"Easy, bug," Galo reassures him. His bangs are brushed aside, before Galo's hand returns to his own cock.

He lets Galo push into his mouth slowly this time, his wide girth pressing Lio's tongue flat and still. They've done this a thousand times before, but this feels new, Lio thinks. He tastes sweat and salt and _god_ , he's into it, but he's not doing this to unravel Galo, for once.

He's not in control. 

There's a hand on the back of his skull, now, and there's a rhythm to it too; he licks what he can, opens his throat for what he can. His knees already ache, which is strange, because it hasn't been long at all-- but his eyes open, and the clock reads 9:12, now--

And opening his eyes was a mistake, because Galo looks down at him so fondly, so pridefully, and Lio loves him, really _really_ loves him, and Lio knows he's doing _something_ right, but he's pulled off his dick before he can finish what he's started--

"Did you hear me?" Galo asks, and Lio gives a slow blink.

"What?"

"I asked if you wanted to stop. You're breathing kind of weird."

"Oh."

"Lio," Galo says, and his hands are on Lios cheeks again. "Let's clean up, okay?"

Lio nods, but he's disappointed. He doesn't want to move. He's not sure when he came, but the vibe's off, and his pants are ruined.

Galo tucks his hair behind his ears for him, and it's simple, but so, so tender. Lio squishes his face against his palm.

"Babe, I'm gonna go grab a washcloth from the kitchen sink. Can you sit up okay?"

Lio Fotia can sit up. Lio Fotia is the _king_ of sitting up.

Blissed-out and high on endorphins, Lio Fotia does not sit up.

Galo lifts him, apparently, though he doesn't remember being set on the couch, or bundled in a blanket. He's dizzy and dreamy and misses the soreness in his jaw, but he's happy, for the most part.

Luckily, Galo's quick enough to return with a bowl of water and a washcloth before Lio even realizes he's stepped away. He dunks and dabs the cloth at Lio's wrist, jump-starting his system back to something safe and normal. It's warm. Lio sighs.

"Damn," he manages, after a cuddle, a Kit Kat, and responsible sips of water. "What just happened."

"You tanked pretty hard, dude," Galo says, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. "You're okay, though. Couple more minutes and you'll be good as new." He wraps two sweaty biceps around the whole of Lio's torso. "That was super fun! I wasn't sure I'd be any good at it."

Lio smiles against Galo's skin. "Super good," he agrees. "Super embarrassing."

Galo kisses his temple. "I felt that way too, at first. When we started doing all this."

"Yeah, but you like it."

Lio feels Galo's chest rise and hold a breath. "Did you... _not_ like it?"

He's overstimulated, sweat-coated, and more exposed than he's ever been in his entire life, but Lio presses into Galo-- as though they could melt together if he tries hard enough.

Lio shyly asks for a kiss, and receives it.

"Yeah. I really liked it."

***

His therapist, the spouse of a former Burnish Lio once knew in passing, is a short woman named Addi. She's kind enough to work with kids, but smart enough to know Lio needs brutal honesty. He'd taken two years just to mention his parents by name. He'd taken three to admit he was human.

Her office is on the ninth floor of a medical building in the financial district. The walls are turquoise and steel gray, and Lio, sipping at a mug of tea while she prints off a list of outside referrals, will miss how safe he feels here.

"If you ever need to reach out, or can't find someone new who gels with you, you know you're always welcome in my office," she says, her voice tinged with genuine sadness. 

"I know. I'm grateful for that, Addi."

The ring on his left hand clicks against the mug when he sets it down. He knows she sees it, but she doesn't press him for details. 

He'd called out last week, after all. He hated skipping sessions, but the courthouse had limited availabilities that day. 

Eloping, like everything else in his life, involved paperwork.

He thanks her for her time. He thanks her for believing in him. He apologizes for making little progress, but she shoots him a look, and he rolls his eyes.

"I'll be fine. I look forward to seeing you and Lola at the charity cookoff next Saturday?" he smiles, knowing that their community is insular, and he'll run into her often.

Addi cocks an eyebrow, grins, and wipes away a tear. "Bring your husband. I hear he likes his chili hotter than hell."

And Lio can't refute that: the chili part, the husband part, or the fact that he's shared himself in permanent ways with permanent people. 

It's different than sacrificing pieces of himself, he knows now. He doesn't have to _lose_ to show he cares.

Lio Fotia's perfectly fine with sharing-- and if people want to hold him, imperfections and edges and all, well.

That's their prerogative.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing sex is very hard and I am absolutely not an authority on any of the content here!! But I like kink and brainstuff and projecting, so here we are.
> 
> Impact toy mentioned at the beginning is based on an actual loop whip that I highly regret not buying. Here's to the One Who Got Away.
> 
> Thank you, as always, for all of the encouragement and comments on these oneshots! I don't know how comment culture works on here so I don't always reply to them, but I like to spread the love on other fics, so if you comment on this, keep the ball rolling and comment on other fics you read today too! :D This ship tag is so fun and I'm so happy to read all yalls amazing work. You seriously make me smile.


End file.
